Category Archives: parenting

Country Roads

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Please forgive me if I am a tad hard to understand this morning.  I find that I am writing with a southern accent today, probably because I’ve been in West Virginia visiting Sheepdog’s parents all weekend.  Y’all just please bear with me.

Sheepdog's hometown is so small that it says "Welcome to Jane Lew" on both sides of this sign

Sheepdog grew up in a small town in the middle of West Virginia.  And by “small” I mean population of 406, but that’s only if you include the greater metropolitan area.  They have a fire station, a park, a car wash, a laundromat (which – until recently – was called the “laundermat”), a church, a Dairy Store, a Dairy Mart, a Dairy King (not to be confused with Dairy Queen), and an elementary school.  There were less than 50 kids in his graduating class.  It is a town that has very nice people who take tremendous pride in their families, their town and their state.  Oh, and a few of them root for the Mountaineers.

His parents live in a beautiful stone house at the top of the hill on Main Street.  It is the same house that Sheepdog lived in from the time that he was less than a year old until he went off to college.  Sheepdog’s mom is an obsessive viewer of the HGTV and her house is always beautifully decorated, re-decorated and eventually re-re-decorated.  She also keeps their yard (which is a farm-like two acres) meticulously maintained, with beautiful landscapes, vegetable gardens and lush flower beds.  Sheepdog’s dad is a retired power lineman (with the resultant Popeye-like forearms) who keeps busy working on the ever-evolving Honey-Do lists that his wife continues to produce.  They’ve been married for 46 years and they haven’t killed each other yet.

Our trip up here this summer ended up sandwiched between two things that could not be changed on our family schedule.  We left Atlanta at 3 a.m. on Saturday morning and drove through the Blue Ridge mountains in the fog and rain to get here.  It has been raining hard every night since we arrived.  We have to be back in Atlanta by tomorrow afternoon, so our original plan to hit the road at 3 a.m. on Tuesday was thwarted by the potential for middle-of-the-night fog in the mountains.  I don’t know about you, but driving along a highway that was literally built on the side of a mountain in the pitch black dark of the early morning combined with dense fog that does not allow you to see much of anything – neither the side of the mountain nor the 18-wheelers that continue to drive over 70 m.p.h. no matter the weather – does not sound appealing to me.  So we’re pulling out this afternoon, just a little bit earlier than we planned, and hoping that the elusive sunshine holds out.

We’ve been making the most of our short but sweet visit by simply spending time together.  We got to see Sheepdog’s sister, her husband, her two kids and their new puppy, Mabel, on Saturday night at dinner.  We hung out with the neighbors (who are as good as family) last night.  And we’ve been visiting with Sheepdog’s parents (“Grandma” and “Grandpa” for almost 16 years… we are not switching to “Me-Maw” and “Pa-Paw” even though that’s what their other grandkids call them now) every waking moment.  It has been a really nice, relaxing trip.

Ren McCormack's got nothing on Kid A

My favorite part so far was when Grandpa offered to let Kid A (who just finished driving school) drive the tractor around the property.  She was very cautious and hesitant because she was following every rule applicable to driving a car on the road.  I think she even had her permit in her pocket.  But she had all of this beautiful land to drive and drive and drive until her heart was content.  She probably gained more confidence driving that tractor around their property for thirty minutes than she has driving my truck around an empty parking lot for hours.

And that’s just one of the many great things about small towns and Country Roads…

Almost heaven, West Virginia
Blue ridge mountains
Shenandoah river –
Life is old there
Older than the trees
Younger than the mountains
Growin’ like a breeze

– “Take Me Home, Country Roads” by John Denver, 1971

“It’s always good to remember where you come from and celebrate it. To remember where you come from is part of where you’re going.” – Anthony Burgess

Y’all wish me luck for tomorrow…

Living in My Basement is Not an Option

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Kid D really got into reading the Wimpy Kid book series by Jeff Kinney this summer.  We borrowed the movies and watched both DVDs a few weeks ago.  He really thinks they are funny, so I decided to get him the Do-It-Yourself Book, which is a kind of fill-in-the-blank diary for boys (so they clarify many, many times that it is indeed NOT a diary because that would be too girly).

He has been so cute to watch every night, reading and writing in his book.  He takes it very seriously.  Sometimes I hear him talking to himself, either reading aloud or working out an answer to a prompt in the book.  Every once in a while he will ask me questions, like “What’s the longest I’ve ever gone without bathing?” or “Have I ever been sent home early by one of my friend’s parents?”  When I ask why he wants to know he just guards his book and holds it close to his body and says, “Oh, no reason.”

So I felt very special last night when he invited me to read some of his journal (it is apparently much manlier to call it that) with him.  I crawled into his bed next to him and he showed me some pages and read me a questionnaire and the answers he chose.  Now, it was really for classmates but he chose to answer with family members instead.  I have to say that his answers were spot on.

The person who’d have the best chance of surviving in the wild:  Dad (Sheepdog)

The person you’d want to do your homework for you:  Kid A

The person who doesn’t have a “whispering voice”:  Kid E

The person who you wished lived in your neighborhood:  his cousin W

The person who’s most likely to do something crazy on a dare:  Kid C

The person who you really wouldn’t want to get hold of this book:  Kid B

The person who you wouldn’t want to get in a fist fight with:  Mom

So the rest of the man-journal had some cute and often funny answers.  That is until we got to the “Predict Your Future” page…

In case it is too small to read I will tell you what Kid D predicts is going to happen.  My 30-year-old married son, who is the father of two with a dog whom he calls “Cool,” will be working as a math “techer” (thank goodness he doesn’t want to be a spelling teacher, right?) and pulling down either one or 11 G’s a year (I can’t tell which, but they both suck and he’s below the poverty line either way), is still playing video games on a regular basis (enough that he brings them to work with him) and he will be living in the house he currently resides in.

Now, the way I see it, either Sheepdog and I are dead and he has inherited this house (I don’t know how he landed it over his four siblings, but whatever…) or he plans to live at home with us forever.

Whoa, buster.  Not.  Gonna.  Happen.

See, I love, love, love my kids.  I enjoy their company and I like doing things with them.  I think that they are interesting and funny and silly.  I like being their mom and I couldn’t ask for a more rewarding job than to teach them and guide them and raise them.  Until they graduate from school and – pay attention because this is the really important part – move out of our house.

And I do not think that it is too early to let them know what our expectations are either.  So in no uncertain terms I told six-year-old Kid D that he will graduate high school, then most likely go on to college, then he will promptly get a job that will pay enough to support him (and Cool and the Gang if that’s how he’s really gonna play it) in his own place.

I made sure to let him know that I will welcome him back for holidays and visits and he could even maybe live several miles away (no less than 2.5) and can come over for Sunday dinners, but he will never, ever be allowed to live here.  That would definitely lead to a fist fight with mom, and we know how he feels about that.

Wish me luck for the weekend…

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P.S.  Despite the fact that I just told Kid D that I will – at some point in the future – no longer let him live with me, he wanted me to let everyone know that he did in fact give me his permission to share the contents of his journal for purposes of this post.  So I’m not really a jerk for sharing his private thoughts and feelings with you all.

Summer Has Jumped the Shark (Week)

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Da……….dum, da………dum, da……..dum, da…….dum, da……dum, da…..dum, da….dum, da…dum, da..dum, da.dum, DAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

Did I feel it?  Was I paying attention?  Do I remember what I was doing when I first felt that this summer could be O-V-E-R, dead and gone as far as I was concerned?

No, no and odds are either standing in the neighborhood pool making sure nobody was dropping a deuce near me or sitting inside my air-conditioned house because it was so hot I couldn’t even contemplate stepping outside to walk down to said pool (the pool water is now hovering near a lovely ninety degrees – refreshing!).  But I don’t really remember.  I just know that it has definitely happened.

I am sick of the unrelenting, unholy heat that qualifies it as child endangerment to send your kids outside even just to get the mail, let alone to play outside all day (you can drink from the hose and pee in the bushes!).  I am sick of my kids being in the house all day, every day.  I am sick of hearing them bicker with one another.  I am sick of hearing loud crashes, having a mini-heart attack, then hearing a (not really) reassuring “I’m/ He’s OK!”  I am sick of the middle-of-the-night thunderstorms that wake everybody in the house up with their thrashing winds and window-rattling thunder and bone-jarring lightning strikes, yet they don’t even cool anything off the next day.  I am sick of stepping on teeny, tiny Lego pieces that have been strewn about my house for months now.  I am sick of washing bathing suits and pool towels (well, let me be honest – I stopped washing towels around mid-July), and I am especially sick of trying to put those tiny little liners back into bikini tops after they fall out every single wash.  I am sick of reruns on TV, I am no longer friends with Netflix, I haven’t been able to find a great new book, and I am even a little bit sick of the internet.

Bruce: Hello. My name is Bruce. Anchor, Chum: Hello, Bruce. Bruce: It has been three weeks since my last fish, on my honor, or may I be chopped up and made into soup.

Then I stumbled upon Discovery Channel’s Shark Week Top 10 Shark Attack videos.  This stuff is SICK!  I mean I am scared to death to watch and have to pretend it is not real, yet I can’t stop looking at the ocean train wreck/ shark porn that is unfolding before my eyes.  Even the reenactments are realistic and as frightening as my imagination can handle.  Being a girl who loves the beach and ventures out into the waves on a regular basis, I have to know that there is always the possibility that a shark could be out there looking around for some num nums.  I just figure that it’s not going to happen to me.

According to the Top 10 Shark Attack videos, neither did those people.  Well, except the guys who jump into the water in aluminum cages simply because sharks are there and they want to film them/ study them/ get penciled into their dance cards.  I mean, thanks for all of the great up-close, color pictures of humans being shark brunch and all, but who does that?  Those dudes are loco.

I am simply amazed that people get back into the waters in those locations where shark attacks are prevalent.  I was really surprised to learn that the United States leads the world in shark attacks, with 36 in 2010.  Australia (which I would have guessed was the leader) only had 14 and South Africa had eight.  After looking into the numbers in more detail, I have decided that I will never go into Florida’s waters ever, ever again.  But I really didn’t like Florida all that much to begin with.

So I’m counting down the days until that big yellow bus pulls up to my driveway (one of the perks of having so many kids is that the bus stop unofficially relocated to our house).  Today marks eleven.  I can do anything for eleven more days, right?  I can put up with my kids as they are fighting and whining and circling around me, seemingly ready to attack at any minute.  I can even refrain from punching them in the nose (because that’s what I’d do if they were actual sharks).

Yep, Summer 2011 is almost over.  Then comes Fall, with school and alarm clocks and schedules and activities and sports and homework and projects and da……….dum, da………dum, da……..dum, da…….dum, da……dum, da…..dum, da….dum, da…dum, da..dum, da.dum, DAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Just Driving Around, Learning Some Life Lessons

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Ugh!  It is only Thursday.  Why can’t Friday just get here already?  This does not sound like something that should be said during summer vacation.  What is going on?

This week has been filled from start to finish with stuff on the schedule and I am not happy about any of it.  The Joy of Summer is that the wall calendar is basically empty, with the exception of “AT THE BEACH” that extended as far as I could stretch it and some doodles that I drew to keep it colorful and fill in the blank spaces.

But this week has been very un-summery because of the jam-packed schedule and non-stop driving around.  Kid A has thirty plus hours of driving school and Kid B has soccer camp.  And the drop off and pick up times have made it next to impossible for the rest of us to do anything for more than twenty whole minutes before having to get back into the car again.  In scheduling these two things I knew it would be the case, so I also decided to throw in a few other necessary appointments and check-ups, just to get it all over with at once.  The end result is that this week has felt like a punch in the face.

Last week we were doing nothing more than catching up on our Good Luck Charlie episodes and lounging at the pool.  We were all total slackers when it comes to meals and showers and going to bed.  We were just chillin’ and loving every minute of it.

This week I have to make sure that the clocks get reset every time the power goes out because I actually need to know what time it is.  And I keep almost running out of gas in my car.  I have been planning meals and enforcing bedtimes.  I feel like I am one “Did you finish your book report?” away from it being the school year.  Yuck.

One of the only fun things about all of the driving around is that the kids will usually request that we watch a movie while we do it.  Once we all agree on something then we just pick up where we left off each time we get back in the car.  This week, in honor of Kid B’s activity, we have been running Kicking & Screaming, starring Will Ferrell and Robert Duvall.  And let me tell you, that is one funny film with some really great quotes…

Mike Ditka: Coffee is the lifeblood that fuels the dreams of champions.

Buck Weston: I take a vitamin everyday. It’s called a steak.

It is a movie about a family man who has been living in his dad’s ultra-competitive shadow all his life.  He ends up coaching his own kid’s soccer team (along with Da Bears coach, Mike Ditka, as his assistant) and eventually he starts acting all crazy – just like his dad – when it comes to the championship.  In the end he learns that having fun and trying your best are more important than winning.

Screeeeeeeeeeech.  Wait, what?  I hate when movies that start out all awesome end with such lame lessons in the end.  I mean, don’t be a jerk to your kids if they don’t come home with the gold, but encourage them to win a little.  Or a lot.  Just provide them with unconditional love even when they lose.  You’re not doing anybody any favors by teaching them that nobody really needs to keep score.

Maybe I’m extra negative because I’ve been driving around in traffic all week, or maybe I’m just grouchy because of the unnatural scheduling issue I’m dealing with in the middle of my lovely summer, but that just pisses me off.  Are you telling me that I am paying all of this money and spending all of this time and committing all of my resources so that my kids can have a good time?  What about preparing them for the future in the real world?  The one where they need to get a good education so they can get a good job and make a positive difference.  The one where some people win and some people lose.

I realize that they make family movies that are all happy and fun and nice, but our kids are learning from these movies.  It can be and has been done right before.  Take the movie, The Incredibles, for example.  Now that movie has a very well articulated message about the downside of letting everybody think they’re special.

Mr. Incredible: You mean you killed off real heroes so that you could *pretend* to be one?
Syndrome: Oh, I’m real. Real enough to defeat you! And I did it without your precious gifts, your oh-so-special powers. I’ll give them heroics. I’ll give them the most spectacular heroics the world has ever seen! And when I’m old and I’ve had my fun, I’ll sell my inventions so that *everyone* can have powers. *Everyone* can be super! And when everyone’s super…
[chuckles evilly]
Syndrome: – no one will be.

All right.  It is about time that I have to get back into the car to pick somebody up from somewhere.  But before I get back into the car I am going to switch out the DVD and run something that teaches some more realistic life lessons.  Hey kids, who’s up for some Varsity Blues?

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Don’t Be Tardy for My Party

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

…and the parade of sisters continues as well.  Somehow I have managed to inspire (read: subtly threaten) all three of my sisters to contribute their wisdom nuggets to my blog.  Whatever their motivation, it makes me very happy because each of them has a very different style of parenting and I think they are pretty good at what they do best.

Sister B and I are the closest in age.  She was the one who invaded my pink princess canopy bed when she was less than two years old (I was a much more mature five-and-three-quarters) when Sister C came along.  So sue me that I may or may not have deliberately pushed her out of bed every night so our mom thought she wasn’t ready for a big girl bed and she needed to go back into a crib.  What some call “mean” others may describe as “mad genius.”  It’s all in the point of view, folks.

Sister B was the one who was such a baby when our parents went out of town and left our grandmother, Kettle, in charge (whom I so easily encouraged to go back to her own house for the night…”We’re fine!  Go and sleep in your own bed.  You can come back in the morning after you have your Sanka and a good poop.”), that she cried all night during the massive party I threw because she was scared for all of the teenagers who were getting their drunk on downstairs.  I also made her cry every time I queried, “You’re not wearing that, are you?” as she was about to get on the public school bus and I was walking out the door in plaid polyester to my uniform-required high school.  And I think she cried again when we had a fight with pots and pans that scared Sisters C and D into running away to the playground at the end of our street where a little boy asked them if they had gotten their periods yet.  Wait.  Did we grow up in the ghetto?

Anyway, Sister B and I have history.  Real sister history.  I never had to babysit her.  I was never old enough to change her diaper.  We are four years apart in age so we were never really in school together, but we were together all the time otherwise.  And together we survived the crazy that was pretty standard growing up with our family.

I have since apologized on multiple occasions for being mean (or a mad genius) and making her cry all the time.  And despite having a semi-tortured childhood, Sister B has grown up to become one of the women I most admire in this busted up world.  She completed college in three years, had a big-time career, lived in the city, married an incredibly charming and colorful metrosexual and together they have three great kids (an Aspie followed by two neurotypicals).  After settling in suburbia, Sister B was not content to simply rest on the tailgate-ready 3rd row seat of her minivan.  No!  She dove headfirst into the complicated world of extensive therapies for her son with Asperger’s Syndrome, and by working with the best that Atlanta has to offer they made it possible for him to mainstream by the time he was old enough for kindergarten.  And for the past few years she has been el presidente of her kids’ elementary school foundation, where she has led her team to raise over $90,000 for capital improvements for their school (www.MBEFoundation.net).  Yes, she’s that awesome.  And a little bit nuts.

And now I proudly present her post to you…

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Don’t Be Tardy for My Party by honorary guest writer, Sister B

Sister A inherited our Mom’s beauty.  Sister C inherited our mother’s cooking prowess.  Sister D, hands down, got Mom’s empathy.  And I got our mother’s profile (well, really just her nose) and her intense passion for throwing a good party.  My 3 sisters are what you might call xenophobes, or homebodies – happy most often to stay at home versus going out on the town.  But Mom and I are kindred spirits in the social sense.

Mom owned a very successful catering company for 12 years.  I have fond memories of growing up on Chelsea Road surrounded by lots of Mom’s friends/employees who descended upon our kitchen like ants to the anthill each week to cut, chop, dice and slice in preparation for the upcoming weddings, bar mitzvahs and anniversary parties.  I was, and still am, so fascinated by her ability to come up with a party idea and pull it off under budget and exceed her clients’/guests’ expectations.

Our mother always makes a big deal out of birthdays.  Growing up in a big family, I realize it wasn’t easy for our parents to always “do it up,” but Mom always did.  She taught me at a young age that with a great theme and a small budget, you could have a party that no one would ever forget.  And that the secret to a fabulous party was always in the details.

When my husband and I were first engaged, we decided to start a gourmet club where friends rotated homes and hosted a themed dinner party once a month.  Our most memorable was our French-themed soiree, complete with a red, white and blue fabric tablescape and a mean coq au vin (did I mention my hubby is an amazing cook?), ¾ liter of vodka, 8 bottles of wine and lots of beer (for only 6 adults)…the cops showed up because we were being too rowdy with our late-night karaoke.  I was excited because I had earned some validation that we still had “it.”  We also started our tradition of a yearly Christmas Open House and quickly learned that hiring a bartender was a necessity in order to actually enjoy conversations with our guests.

Fast forward several years and three kids later and the daunting task of planning our children’s birthday parties surfaced.  Mom didn’t even have to specify that paying a bouncy house or carting the neighbors’ kids to Chuck E. Cheese were not viable options.  Thus began my quest to plan some excellent parties for my kids with great themes and on the cheap.

The year our oldest son turned 4, he excitedly announced to our family that in honor of his upcoming birthday, he would like an airplane party and I gladly accepted the challenge.  I purchased world puzzles, inflatable globe beach balls and packets of cloud-themed tissues for the goody bags.  We decided we needed some entertainment and hired a girl who did face painting and balloon animals.  We made her dress in a navy suit and airline hat and made her a “Pilot Katie” name badge.  When she showed up at our door in a tight skirt and a low-cut blouse with a boom box, all of the dads in attendance sat up a little straighter hoping to get noticed and our next-door neighbor went home to get a few singles.

Super powers include being able to wear this costume after having kids

Our middle son was obsessed with superheroes (like most 5-year-old boys), so we planned a dress-up party with lots of photo ops, complete with our neighbor in a Spiderman suit, Sister C as Wonder Woman, and sister D as Catwoman.  And once again the neighborhood dads were happy with a cooler of beer and some eye candy.  I see a recurring theme here…We started a great and inexpensive tradition of creating a CD as a party favor with songs related to the theme of the party.  The parents, as well as the kids, were excited to hear “Wonder Woman,” the “Theme from Superman,” and “Spiderman,” classics every kid should know and love.

One of our favorite kid parties was our oldest son’s racecar birthday.  Thank goodness the weather was supposed to be beautiful.  My husband reluctantly agreed to my latest crazy creative idea of spray painting individual cardboard boxes and letting the kids and affix stickers/decals and black paper plate “wheels” on their cards upon arrival.  We drilled holes on the tops of the finished boxes and used rope as suspenders so the kids could wear their cars at the party.  When everyone finished pimping their rides, we handed out racecar driver helmets and the kids ran around the neighborhood, checkered flag at the finish line and all.  On the food tables, I used black plastic tablecloths and masking tape to create a roadway with dotted lines, tossed on a few matchbox cars and…voila!…instant table décor and entertainment for the kids while they waited for their food.

For our daughter’s third birthday, she chose a rainbow theme and I talked my husband into creating a balloon arch rainbow in our living room out of PVC pipe.  The look on her face made it all worthwhile.  She couldn’t believe we actually had a rainbow in our house!  We had a dance party to “Over the Rainbow” and other color-themed songs and made rainbow necklaces.  We just threw a magic party for our 8-year-old and all of the kids learned tricks and put on a show at the end of the party.

Several times a year, we host a movie night on our lawn.  It’s an easy party to host because we are not entertaining inside.  Everyone brings food and drinks to share, lawn chairs, blankets and bug spray and our kids and friends love it!  Together we are making memories for our children which they will look back on fondly.  So I challenge you to use a little imagination and creativity and you’ll be surprised at how little it takes to throw a party your family and friends will talk about for years to come… and you just might have fun doing it!

Pants on Fire

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

…and the appointments and exams just keep on coming.  This morning I took all of the kids (minus Kid A who is at driving school this week… consider yourselves warned) and myself to the dentist for our regular 6-month cleanings.  Our dentist’s office is a really nice place and they have a lot of hygienists so they can be great about fitting us all in at the same time.  And because their staff is so accommodating and they really make a tedious chore into a no-brainer, we have been going there like clockwork two times a year since we moved here.

I think it is standard practice with most dentists, but at ours they do not ask the parent to come back for a child’s exam and cleaning.  That works out well for me because I can’t be with all of them at once, and I certainly couldn’t get my own teeth cleaned at the same time.  The kids’ hygienists just periodically stick their heads in my exam room and ask me questions about their mouths and give me their status updates, all while my hygienist is scraping away at my (relatively minor amounts of) plaque or Mr. Thirsty is sucking the spit out of me (no, that is not a dirty euphemism).  Sometimes they blur together, but I’m pretty good at keeping track of everybody’s individual oral status.

I would give us a B minus for our overall family teeth grade this time around, as Kid B showed a new (albeit small) cavity that has to be filled and Kid C needs sealant on a molar, thus resulting in two extra appointments (that will have to be scheduled around school, as that crap starts in fewer than two flipping weeks).  Kids D and Kid E (his first time!) had great showings in the chair and I was a Superstar!  Funny enough though, Kid D was kind of mad because he didn’t get the absolute best review of the day.  A little background…

You see, just about this time last year Kid B was guiding Kid D on his development of proper flossing habits.  Together they had created calendars on the computer and every day, sometimes twice day, Kid D would make a note on it when he flossed.  He really liked the visual reminder and followed through regularly, so he had something to be really proud of by the time his check-up rolled around.  He brought it to his appointment and showed the dentist and the hygienists and the desk staff and everybody else in the office with eyes.  They made such a big deal of it that he actually continued to floss regularly for a really long time after that.

But as all things go, this little boy started getting older and more easily distracted and Wii came out with new video games, and baseball season started (twice), so naturally he got bored with the calendar and started flossing less and less regularly.  Some days I was just pleased that he brushed his teeth at all.  I wasn’t even dreaming that he might rinse the sink out afterwards.  I was just hoping for less of an “I just ate a handful of goldfish snacks” smell on his breath and little to no cavities.

So when he went in for his end of the year cleaning last year he was still into good habits, but for his appointment this time the calendar idea had been well out of his routine for a while.  I had certainly forgotten about it.  I’m sure he had too, until he was in the chair and the hygienist asked him if he had been flossing every day.  Oopsie.  Being a good little boy, he didn’t want to tell a lie.

“Um, no,” answered Kid D.

Then he apparently went on to tell her, “I told my mom that we ran out of flossers and she said that she didn’t want to get me any more.  As a matter of fact, my mom said that SHE WAS NEVER GOING TO BUY FLOSSERS EVER AGAIN.  So that’s why I haven’t been flossing every day.”

I rescind the “good boy” comment.  Hey kid, your pants are on fire.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Four Blind Mice

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

So our back to school preparations continued last Friday with eye exams.  The boys do not have any vision issues (yet… knock on wood), so it was just a girl thing this time.  We needed to update our contact lens prescriptions and the girls all needed new glasses as well.  It was going to be a very long and expensive day.

Squint and say, "Sears Optical!"

I have been seeing everything blurry and therefore wearing glasses and corrective lenses since I was about eight.  I wore the most hideous wire-framed glasses throughout most of my childhood, and they were so thick I could almost see into the future.  They were just like my dad’s, so I guess that made them less dorky (as far as I knew).  At least they weren’t the black plastic kind held together with masking tape.  I was so excited when I got contact lenses, I did not care that it was an incredibly time-consuming daily chore to care for them.  I have always worn soft lenses, but not the disposable kind back in the beginning.  I had one of those contraptions that you plugged in to boil your contacts clean each night.  I’m talking real old school stuff, like the cave people used to have.

We all learned in biology about the 23 chromosomes given to a child by the mother and an equal amount by the dad.  Vision is certainly part of the genetic crapshoot when you are making a baby.  Sheepdog has really good vision, so I was always hoping that our kids would get his eyes (and my ears – oh, please! don’t let any of them get his ears).  Having limited sight is one of those things that has been a part of my life as far back as I can remember so I’m used to it.  But it is inconvenient and disabling and really freaky to wake up each and every day not even being able to see the numbers on a clock that is right next to my face.  I just really hoped my kids wouldn’t have to deal with it too.

But that’s not how things are working out.  Kid A has one good eye and one bad eye (now complete with an astigmatism, like me) and Kid B and Kid C are both on the way to eventually being as blind as I am.  They outgrow their prescriptions and the shape and size of their glasses frames so often (usually two times a year at least) that we are at the eye doctor’s office more often than we are at the pediatrician’s office.  You don’t even want to know what kind of bill we rack up when you count the comprehensive exams, frames for school, frames for sports, lenses, contacts and the accompanying solutions and paraphernalia.  Sheepdog definitely does not want to know, so please don’t tell him.

Kid D failed one of his school vision screenings a while back, but our eye doctor said his vision is great so far.  Kid E also says he can see everything just fine, but only time will really tell what the future holds for the boys and their vision.  I’m just going to cross my fingers and hope for the best.

All I can say for now is at least they didn’t get Sheepdog’s ears!

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Keeping Up With the Kids – LAX Bro Slang

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

I’m going to start a new post category today called Keeping Up With the Kids. I will include all sorts of ways that my kids make me feel old (tumblr.com, anyone?) and how I am compensating for/ coping with such abominations. Let’s remember that (in my own mind) I am about nineteen to twenty-two years old, despite the fact that my body is screaming otherwise at me. I still think I am totally cool and hip and in touch with the youth of America. And I’ll also tell you that my sisters and I make fun of (note: present tense) our mom for not knowing any slang or how to upload music to her iPod or even how to turn on her cell phone. So I am continually paying attention and trying to follow what the kids are saying and doing. I’m really just trying to keep up with them so they don’t start making fun of me…

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Yesterday Kid A (asked to come), Kid E (everyone else asked that he go) and I went over to Sister B’s house (she is having her turn out-of-town at the beach… I’m so jealous) because she said we could borrow some DVDs. While I was inside I took a look in her nightstand to see if she kept anything untoward in there (she totally DOES!)… just kidding. And that’s what you get for not submitting a guest post. Thanks for letting us borrow your movies, Case. I love you!

…sorry, I got sidetracked… so we were on our way over to Sister B’s house and as we were turning into her neighborhood I watched a teenage boy pull up to the traffic light in a rusted up, old Bronco with a raised body and muddy tires and I said, “Did you see the size of that?” And Kid A said, “That’s called ‘lettuce.'” And I was all, “I thought it was a lift kit?” and she looked at me like I was drunk.

“That boy’s hair, mom. When boys – usually lacrosse players, or ‘LAX bros’ – grow their hair out long like that it is called ‘lettuce.’ And when they tie it back they use a ‘flow band.'”

That is some fresh lettuce for a football player, Tommy.

I was learning new, hip jargon and I didn’t even have to look it up on urbandictionary.com! I felt so cool, so in touch. I kept asking her the proper ways to use these new words, and I kept attempting new combinations and possible scenarios. But for some reason my brain wasn’t working right and I kept calling it “cabbage.”

So by the time we got to Sister B’s driveway and we got out of the car, Kid A had just about enough of me and our Lesson of the Day. I was still screwing up all of the words and I didn’t want her to be frustrated with me so I started to do the Cabbage Patch dance real smooth, you know? Then I took out my ponytail and I let my own giant hair down. And I asked Kid A if she had a ‘lettuce wrap’ to tame my awesome ‘flow.’ Then I got hungry for some chinese food.

Kid A just sighed and then I think she posted something about me on her tumblr.com account.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

It Was Definitely the Hair

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

The future has arrived.  I can listen to whatever song I choose, make a phone call and send a message (through the air!), all from one device that fits in the palm of my hand.  I can push a button and whatever flavor coffee I want comes out of the machine instantly (like in Judy Jetson’s kitchen!).  “Space Tourism” is an actual industry.  I can even load a photo onto my computer and the computer will identify the people in the picture.

I am sorry, but that last one freaks me out a little bit.  A computer can LOOK at a picture and IDENTIFY PEOPLE from it.  Like when your kid pulls out an old, square Fotomat photo from a dusty box, wipes it off and asks, “Who is that little boy, Mama?”  And you squint and jog your memory and say, “Um, I think that was my uncle, back when he was young and super cute, you know – before he started smoking pot all the time and living with the crazy cat lady who didn’t wear underpants to your aunt’s wedding reception.  Yeah, that was him.  Don’t do drugs.”

A bunch of different computer applications have face recognition software now… iPhoto has had it for a while and Facebook apparently has it too.  I get how it works (our souls have a fingerprint-like uniqueness and the computers have a way of recognizing those very specific and detailed nuances), but I am leery of it at the same time.  I would feel so much better – and the computers would seem so much less alive – if they were just measuring the distance between the eyes, width of the nose, depth of the eye sockets, shape of the cheekbones and the length of the jawbone.

So I was reassured and very pleasantly surprised the other day when Kid A posted her Hermione picture on her Facebook account and the computer identified her as… ME!

Now, let me give you a little background.  Kid A is the first grandchild on both sides, so all of the relatives gathered together in the hospital room when she was born.  My mom was so excited and overwhelmed to have a grandchild.  She stared down at the minutes-old new life, scanned her beautiful baby face and gushed to me with joy, “She looks just like you!”

Everyone in the room responded, “Stacy looked just like Sheepdog as a baby?”

Seriously, Kid A looked exactly like Sheepdog and nothing like the woman who just attempted ripping the rails off of the hospital bed while forcing another human out of her body.  And while Kid A’s looks have changed over the years, she has always most closely resembled her Daddy.  Yet the computer identified her not as him, nor even as herself, but as me the other day.

Why did the software recognition program identify Kid A as me, you ask?  I mean, yes, she is my kid but we really do not look alike.  We clearly have different noses, different eyes, and very different face shapes.

There’s only one logical conclusion.  It was definitely the hair.  Unmistakable, big, Jersey Girl hair.  She DOES look just like me!

Kid A (but Me, according to Facebook), 2011

Me, 1987

It All Ends Today

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

…or so says the tagline to the latest and final (sniff, sniff) movie, Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows – Part 2 (which releases today), based upon the epic book series by J. K. Rowling.  Unless, of course, we are mistaken about that because they found a way to cast a Confundus Charm over the entire world… now wouldn’t that be something?

I have always been extremely affected by books and movies and television, so it is natural that their conclusions would move me monumentally as well.  I know that they are manufactured, but they could be real – good fiction is always based in reality – and regardless, through reading about or watching them, they have allowed me to be a part of their life lessons.

I learned about the joy of realizing your true calling from Sam Malone (“Boy, I’ll tell ya… I’m the luckiest son-of-a-bitch on Earth,” as he shuts off the lights in the bar) and the meaning of life according to Cliff Clavin (“comfortable shoes”) and Carla Tortelli (“having children”) during the final episode of Cheers.  I learned about letting true friends know that they will remain in your heart even when you follow different paths in life (the “GOODBYE” stones that Hunnicutt left for Pierce to see as he flew off in the chopper in the M*A*S*H finale).

I learned from Frodo and Sam in The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King that you sometimes can but you can’t always go home again, for when they returned to the Shire – free of their youthful innocence and ignorance – it was a very different place than the one they had left.  I learned that war can be necessary even though it ends childhood and tears friends and families apart, and that power will corrupt almost everyone, from The Hunger Games trilogy.

I was reminded that relationships are complicated and the “right” guy is determined by the beholder (Team Kellan!, I mean Team Sheepdog!) and that everybody comes with a list of pros and cons from the Twilight books.  And Friday Night Lights’ Coach Eric Taylor and his football motto “Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can’t Lose!” couldn’t show me any more simply that winning is not the true indicator for success, and that family should always come first.  The Cosby Show taught me that families should dance together often, preferably to cool jazz music.

And perhaps most importantly I learned from the conclusion of Zoey 101 that sometimes 16-year-old girls get pregnant and it is incredibly important to be a good parent to your teenager and talk to them about sex and responsibility and how bad choices can end your career before it really even begins (empathetic shiver! for both of the Spears girls).

I am smarter than all of you. Oh, and my parents are dentists.

So it is actually Thursday night and Kid A is leaving now dressed as Hermione to attend the midnight-ish viewing of the last Harry Potter film with her friends.  Kid B was so excited that she made wands for them out of actual trees for Kid A and her friends so they could use them when they dressed up for the premiere (I am telling you that these kids are B.O.R.E.D.).

Sheepdog, Kid B and I are looking forward to a Sunday afternoon IMAX showing of the movie, where I hope to be as moved as I have in the past by the creativity of those who write and make these incredible stories.  The Harry Potter books speak of unconditional love and selflessness as the ultimate weapons against evil.  I think that they are pretty good at warding off the everyday icky as well, so I’m going to stick with them.

After Sunday I will say, “Nox!” to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part 2, so I can make room in my heart for new, even more imaginative tales and more importantly, the lessons that I can learn from them.  And so the end is actually the beginning.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

From L to R, the wands of Cho Chang, Padma Patil, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter (made by Kid B)